By Silas Gray
sports@joplinglobe.com
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I tossed another small crappie back over the edge of the boat. Dad and I were several fillets short for the upcoming family fish fry and had decided that one morning of fishing at the Missouri Department of Conservation’s Bushwhacker Lake would be enough to top us off.
I’d been away for a month, and the lake had definitely changed. The banks of springtime that were brimming with nice-sized panfish were gone. The big slab crappie and bluegill that had been there earlier had been replaced with their smaller relatives, and our livewell was filling way too slowly. Earlier in the year we’d have thrown back bluegill the size of most of those we’d been keeping.
We’d gotten away early that morning, leaving the house at 5 a.m. with “Thunder Hook,” our small-water aluminum boat, in tow. By 6 we were backing down the concrete ramp of the conservation area’s main lake — 157 acres of stumps, trees and logs — one of our favorite spots.
With the sun barely up and the clouds low and heavy, we were headed up lake, on our way to check the shallows first. We dodged and weaved and bounced our way along, finding only dinky bass plus some small bluegill and green sunfish.
It wasn’t long before we moved on and began checking the larger trees along the deeper channel that crossed the lake. Although we did catch three keeper-sized panfish, we were bragging about none of them.
It was almost 10, and normally at this time of year the high and bright sun and climbing temperatures would have the fish and Dad and me all headed for shade.
However, the cloud cover was holding and the temperature was still pleasant, and so we continued on.
During the heat of the summer when the water is at its hottest, many of the larger panfish and crappie congregate on the deep brush. In the spring they’re often in the shallows. Since we’d found them at neither spot, Dad and I decided to try somewhere in between.
We cranked up the boat’s large electric motor and headed back toward the shallows. This time, however, we stopped far short and began fishing slowly, using heavier lures, several feet out from the shallows of the shoreline and flats.
Dad soon set the hook, and that antique rod of his bent sharply. This was no dink. We’d finally found the larger fish.
We continued on and soon realized that they were scattered along the logs and stumps in the medium-depth water. If there was a log lying in eight to 12 feet of water, at least one fish would be there, and if we fished slowly enough, it would eat our bait — sometimes coming from a long distance to do it.
We worked our way downstream toward the dam while maintaining a depth of eight to 12 feet. Fishing was slow with only the occasional fish, but we ended up with 12 — all that was required for the family event.
I needed to be back at home by noon and, with 50 miles to go, we were pushing it. All of that fine water that we had yet to fish made it tough, but we turned and headed Thunder Hook back toward the ramp.
Once we’d loaded the boat we stopped to examine our catch. It looked a lot better than we’d thought that it would two hours earlier that morning. We secured our gear and were soon headed south on Highway 43 on our way home. The fish fry was saved.
Although the easy fishing days of spring may be over, by adjusting tactics just a little, these in-between days can be pretty darn good, too.
Address correspondence to Silas Gray at ifish@silasgray.com
